Like Jake
by Nozomi ga Kanau
Summary: Tom contemplates his brother.


Authors Note: I own nothing. This is how I see Tony's death; all the poor guy got in the movie was a few mentions! Sucky. Consider this canon to my story 'Empty Cup'.

**Like Jake**

Tom could hardly contain his excitement: in less than a month, he would be on his way to a far away planet to study a newly found culture, and somehow make a mad amount of money doing it. He'd already made plans on how to spend it, it hurt him to know that the chances of him seeing his brother again were slim to none.

Jake lived too far away and in too deep a depression for Tom to be able to visit before he left. His brother knew it and didn't seem to mind. When he lost the use of his legs, the rest of him tapered with him. Strong Jake, the leader of the wrestling and gun team, the brother who joined the military fresh out of high school, the rabid dog on a battle field. Jake who seemed to not react to the first time he killed a man although he had written to Tom about it once he had the chance. He was everything Tom would never be, never wanted to be. Tom was not like Jake.

He ducked out of the movie theatre, pushing the thick drapery that constituted for a door out of his way. Wood had become too precious to waste on doors and all the metal used in the war effort. Even needles were made out of plastic these days; Tom's mother, a nurse, often mourned the loss of the devices. It took strength to puncture skin with plastic and surgeries involving metal so expensive that they hardly happened anymore.

Things like Jake's spinal included. Lasers, drugs, and metal pins would be used to fuse his spine and nerves back together to give his legs their strength back. Too costly for an unemployed man on a Vet's benefits. America's government too involved with their war efforts and death of the soldiers to bother overmuch with making sure the surviving were taken care of. They gave him a wheelchair and the offer of physical therapy, a small monthly salary to pay for food, a free apartment in the slums of a big city.

After his first three months actually -in- an Avatar body, Tom would be able to afford Jake's surgery. It might take an extra year of physical therapy but at least Jake would be able to walk on his own, do the things he'd missed doing like lean on a bar and ask a woman for her number. Idiot brother - Tom smiled anyway.

The night smelled of dust and smoke, the sort of thing you would expect on one of Jake's battlefields. Here, in Big City US of A, it was the simple smell of life. The forests gone and huge plants to create the worlds weaponry sprouting up, the sky turned dark and brown, all animals on the planet being the penned up sorts, and soldiers like Jake becoming more in demand than the scientests attempting to save what soil and foliage they could. Earth had fallen into dire times.

Tom rubbed at his eyes to clear his vision. Being a part of the Pandora group meant his eyes had been fixed surgically, it gave him the 20-20 that had eluded him since childhood. It wouldn't do to fly through space with ones glasses flying every which way. The crowds melted into night clubs or taxi cabs, leaving him all but alone on what should have been a crowded street.

A turn down a small sidewalk turned into his undoing. Someone stinking of disease came beside Tom and shoved something hard into his side. Tom went down, hissing out a loud breath when his knees hit sidewalk.

"Money," said the figure above him. When Tom didn't move, a sneakered foot shot out and kicked him square in the ribs. Tony wheezed out another breath, hand darting out to support himself. The foot drew back for another blow and the scientist grappled for a better hand hold. "Money! Now!"

"Don't have any," And he didn't. A few cards but no one carried cash anymore - no one who didn't want to die, that was. Most muggers knew that. Jake always said not to fight back, to give them the wallet anyway but in that moment, Tom completely forgot which pocket he'd stuffed it into. Unlike most men, there was no set place for his wallet, nothing. It went into the most convenient place instead of one assigned area. He grabbed for his pocket, hoping against hope to find it there.

The gun cracked down on his head. Where had a man of this caliber been able to get his hands on a metal gun? Tom's world went dark. All he heard were the soft, murmured words: "I dreamt of flying."

It sounded so much like Jake.

*End*


End file.
